


Vivat Regina

by aunden (fiftymillionstars)



Category: Houshin Engi
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:56:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiftymillionstars/pseuds/aunden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thought that your Emperor would ever pick such a disgusting woman over yourself makes you want to plunge a dagger deep into your throat. She knows this, of course, which is why she visits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vivat Regina

**Author's Note:**

> The title is "long live the Queen" in Latin. Ma tai gou is [this](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Water_chestnut_cake).

Seeing her is like looking in a mirror that magnifies all of your faults. She is candy-sweet and wears a smile so dainty it makes your stomach churn and the bile rise in your throat. Every move of hers is soft and curved, every look calculated to make the receiver melt. She oozes charm and politeness and it makes you sick. She is rotten to the core and it shows with every breath she takes. Yet _she_ is Queen, _she_ sits upon the throne, not you, and the thought that your Emperor would ever pick such a disgusting woman over yourself makes you want to plunge a dagger deep into your throat.

She knows this, of course, which is why she visits.

“Kyouhi-chan,” she'll giggle as the guards open the door to your cell for her. She smells of perfume and make-up. The delicate scent is overpoweringly strong—sickeningly so.

She always crosses the distance to where you sit in three easy steps, her hips swaying in a fashion that is neither natural nor exaggerated, somehow, just _is_. She'll sit right next to you, turned towards your rigid form, and smile at you as if you were her best friend.

“Kyouhi-chan~ Look~ I brought you _ma tai gou_ , see? Your favourite!”

In her hands will be a small box of the confection, cut up into little squares and faintly dusted in powdered sugar. When she first brought it to you, you ignored her until she left, hours later. She did not take the box with her.

There was a time you would grab the box out of her hands and dash its contents upon the ground, without a word or a look in her direction. This was when you were newly-arrived in this cell, still incandescent in your rage. They feed you decently enough here, but it's not nearly as much as you are used to, and no cook lavishes time and care on the dishes that make it to your prison table. And in time your longing for your favourite sweet won out.

There was a time you would turn towards her, plucking a square of the amber-coloured sweet from the box and popping it in your mouth without a word of thanks. You would curl your lip at the taste despite your enjoyment of it, and you would make a show of shuddering as you swallowed.

“This tastes,” you would tell her, enunciating the words precisely like you had been trained since birth to do, “like shit.” And she would smile at you, and you would know she had seen right through you, as if you were made of glass.

“I'm glad Kyouhi-chan likes it so much~!” she would say, and laugh.

Now, you turn towards her and give her a smile that does not reach your eyes. “You are too kind, Dakki-san,” you murmur politely, demurely looking down. She hands you the box and you take it without complaint, selecting a piece of the cake. As you raise it to your lips you stare her straight in the eyes and smile once more.

“Long live the Empress of the Yin,” you say, and take a bite.

Her smile never falters—grows wider, in fact—but the look in her eyes tells you your blow has hit its target. You return her smile through your mouthful of shaved chestnut and jellied sugar.

Always she waits for you to finish eating the box before she moves an inch. There was a time her golden stare unnerved you like no other thing. Now you simply match her gaze. Her eyes are cold. As are yours.

When you have finished eating, she makes her next move. Always the same, yet always slightly different.

“My my, Kyouhi-chan~ You have crumbs on your lips! Here, let me get them for you—” 

In the past he has used a handkerchief, or her fingers. This time she uses her lips. It is not new to you, has not been for some time, yet at the touch of her flesh to yours an iron shock runs through your body and it takes all your will not to pull away.

Her touch is ironically gentle, her lips sliding over yours intoxicatingly softly. The heat of her breath ghosts across your cheeks and down your neck. Her eyes are closed. You do not shut yours.

You play your part well, leaning into the deepening kiss, turning your head with hers and letting your breath sound loud in your tiny cell. Every so often the tip of her tongue will run across the seam of your lips, and each time you shudder in equal parts revulsion and something else that you dare not name. Then she parts her lips in earnest, and you take your chance. You bite down on her lower lip, hard. The coppery tang of blood rushes across your tongue, eradicating the last traces of the water chestnut cake.

She jerks away from you, clapping a hand over her mouth, glaring at you in shock over the arch of her fingers. You have legitimately caught her off-guard, and inside you are howling in victory, revelling in it. Outside, you sit demure, the picture of a woman who has her whole life been told she is to be seen and not heard.

“My my, Kyouhi-chan,” she says, and her voice trembles and shakes from the effort of keeping her emotions under control. The hot fire of your victory surges stronger in your breast.

“Aren't we feisty today,” she continues, and your heartbeat kicks into high gear at the tone of her voice. You've done something dangerous, for sure, and now you're going to pay for it. Yet the adrenaline from that tiny win still surges in your blood, and for the moment you are invincible.

“I suppose we shall have to teach you a lesson!” she says, and then her lips are back on yours with an overwhelming ferocity. She's still holding back, you know, and that thought makes you so _angry_ that you match her ferocity without thinking twice. She laughs at that, a sound both surprised and mocking. Her hands trace every curve of your body. You do your best to match her movements, much to her amusement, but you can't keep up with her. Soon you are entirely under her control—right where she wants you.

With her tongue and teeth and fingers she tears wild cries from your throat, leaving bloody bite marks from your neck to your thighs. The sensations claim you, crashing through your body and making you see stars. She leaves you limp and trembling slightly, lying on the floor, your body covered in not much more than a cold sweat. 

She, of course, is the picture of composure, and she smiles down upon you in a way that is nothing short of condescending. Bending down, she places a chaste kiss to curve of your neck, then turns to leave.

“Long live the Empress, indeed,” she says to you over her shoulder. Then she blows you a kiss and shuts the door.

Leaving you, once again, alone.

**Author's Note:**

> ♪i'm sorry mother, i'm sorry i let you down♬


End file.
